Take a Chance on Me (Baymoor Book 3) by D. A. Young (1)

TABLE OF CONTENTS

TITLE PAGE

COPYRIGHT PAGE

PLAYLIST PAGE

AUTHOR’S LETTER

STORY

AUTHOR’S ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TAKE A CHANCE ON ME

BY

D. A. YOUNG

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright © October 2017 by D. A. Young

Cover Art by Karen Kunz/ Lab Media © June 2017 created for D. A. Young

Proofing by Ideality Consulting © October 2017

Editing by Little Pear Editing Services/[email protected] Copyright © October 2017

 

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book only. EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this e-book is a crime punishable by law. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 ().

 

This book is a work of fiction and intended for mature audiences aged 18+ only. All names, characters, places, businesses, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and have been used facetiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales or events is entirely coincidental.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TAKE A CHANCE ON ME PLAYLIST

STEVIE WONDER – I WAS MADE TO LOVE HER

OUTKAST – MIGHTY O

DJ KHALED ft. RIHANNA & BRYSON TILLER – WILD THOUGHTS

MIGUEL ft. MARIAH CAREY - BEAUTIFUL

AALIYAH – ARE YOU THAT SOMEBODY

TONY! TONI! TONE! – (LAY YOUR HEAD ON MY) PILLOW

WALE ft. MIGUEL – LOTUS FLOWER BOMB

KENDRICK LAMAR ft. ZACARI – LOVE

LAURYN HILL – DOO WOP (THAT THANG)

TYRESE – SWEET LADY

RAY CHARLES –

TOTAL ft. THE NOTORIOUS B.I.G – CAN’T YOU SEE

MIGUEL – SURE THING

BBAYFACE ft. L.L. COOL J., JODY WATLEY & HOWARD HEWITT – THE LOVER IN YOU

MUSIQ SOULCHILD – DONTCHANGE

BILL WITHERS - LOVELY DAY

BEYONCE ft. KENDRICK LAMAR - FREEDOM

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

AUTHOR’S LETTER

 

Hello,

Thank you for your patience regarding this book. This one is bittersweet for me as it concludes the trilogy of the Carlton siblings. Don’t worry; there are more stories to be told in Baymoor. Graham and Annabelle’s story was special to me, and at times, hard to write because it deals with heavy topics such as domestic violence and drug abuse and the effects they have not just on the victims or users but the people around them as well.

If you are reading this book, I’m going to assume that you started with book one in this series and are aware of the Carlton’s heavy history as well as Annabelle and Edith’s. The saga continues along those lines, and at times, the ride will be dark and heavy before you reach the light at the end of the tunnel. If you’re thinking about quitting the book because of these elements, I encourage you to see it through to the end.

I absolutely enjoyed watching the love between Graham Carlton and Annabelle Gaines unfold! I’d like to disclose that he is now my official book bae, surpassing Max Hayes, Jack Sullivan, and Isaiah Davies. This couple is sexy, hot and funny as hell! At times, I was blushing, but for the most part, laughing aloud at the antics of everyone in this book. There are surprises galore, and as always, it’s great to catch up with Baymoor’s residents.

I hope you will appreciate the rollercoaster adventure of how they came to be as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Happy Reading!

Sincerely,

D. A. Young

P. S.

Interested in what I’m doing next? Follow me on Facebook:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BOOKS by D. A. YOUNG

WHISKEY ROW SERIES

• SWEET OBSESSION
• NEW BEGINNINGS
• THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS
• PERFECTLY IMPERFECT
• NO GREATER LOVE

BAYMOOR SERIES

• THE FARMER & THE BELLE
• LOST & FOUND
• TAKE A CHANCE ON ME

CIRCLE OF FRIENDS NOVELLA SERIES

• SECOND CHANCES
• FOREVER YOURS

THE TIES THAT BIND

• BOOK ONE

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

Baymoor, Maryland

 

“Are you sure you’ve got everything?” Eliza fretted as she unpacked everything Graham had just packed into the suitcase on his bed. “Don’t forget your sunscreen and that first-aid kit I bought you.” Purposely ignoring his puzzled frown, Eliza unfolded and thoroughly examined every article of clothing before starting the process of meticulously folding each item and placing them back into the suitcase.

“Do you mind?” Graham asked pointedly as he plucked his boxer-briefs from her hands.

“Hell no, I don’t mind,” Eliza wrinkled her nose playfully. “I’m just relieved that you actually wear them. I always suspected you went commando for easy access with your continuously expanding fan club.”

“As long as he’s not going commando in one of those hoochies, I couldn’t care less,” their baby sister Georgina “Georgie” Carlton-Hayes chimed in from the foot of his king-sized bed where she was reclining staring up through the skylight overhead. “This is pretty dope! I think I’ll ask Max if we can install one of these in our bedroom too.”

Graham snorted rudely at her comment. “‘Old MacDonald is so pussy-whipped that I have no doubt that when I return, it will already be installed.”

“One, don’t talk about my husband like that. Two, oh, I’m sorry because you’re not pussy-whipped?” Georgie’s saccharinely sweet sarcastic tone was enough to give Graham instant cavities. “Please refresh my memory. Where are you off to again? And for whom?”

Graham emitted a long-suffering sigh. “I already told your smart-ass that once I commit to a job I believe in seeing it through to the end. That’s all this is. Nothing personal.”

“Except you’re not being paid for this job,” Georgina pointed out with relish.

“Do you remember how I used to tickle you until you peed in your pants?” Graham reminded her mildly.

There was a pause before Georgina squeaked, “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Is that a challenge? C’mon, Georgie. When have I ever backed down from a dare—”

“Eliza…” Georgina whined playfully to their big sister. “Graham’s threatening meeee!”

“Chickenshit.”

“Stop bickering, children. Scoot over, Georgie, and let me see.” Eliza bent down and removed her black suede ankle boots before climbing atop the bed. She crawled over the mess of clothing she’d made to where Georgina was laying and positioned herself exactly like her baby sister to take in the glowing moon and smattering of stars brightly shining against the midnight sky. “Wow, she’s right! Makes you want to stay up here forever…”

Except they couldn’t. By no means was he a “run and hide” type of motherfucker, but Graham knew his sisters needed a moment to regroup, and they needed him as well. Words weren’t needed to convey what they felt for each other. They were his life. He would readily lay down his life for them or destroy anyone who threatened them. The proof of that lay six feet under and scattered across several cemeteries in Las Vegas. And because he’d do anything for them, he toed off his shoes and grunted, “Make some room for your boy.”

His sisters did as he requested, and Graham settled his big muscular body comfortably between them, just like old times. They stared wordlessly up at the moon, thinking the same thoughts. But who would be the first to say what was on their mind?

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

The idea of being anything like their degenerate parents was too repugnant a thought for the siblings to bear. Thank God for the presence of their beloved uncle and aunt, Nate and Valerie Banks, to provide a sense of stability and a loving environment. The Carlton siblings were happy with their lives and the successes they’d achieved after their rocky start. That lifestyle was long gone, and none of them were interested in reliving any of the hell they’d been put through. Nor were they interested in having any reminders of it around as they settled into the new phases of their lives in the small, picturesque town of Baymoor, Maryland.

Georgie owned, operated, and designed all of the lingerie for Feminine Intuition, her high-end intimate apparel line and boutique. She was also married to Maxwell Hayes, owner and proprietor of Cinnamon Farms. Eliza was a freelance architect and recently engaged to the sheriff of Baymoor, Wade Holloway. They share a daughter, Camille, from a relationship they’d had nine years ago. Their love affair had been rekindled when Eliza and Camille moved to Baymoor earlier this year. Graham’s occupation was sort of a mystery to the entire family. All they knew was that he’d been in the military, worked for the CIA and NSA, and was the best at what he did.

To commemorate being together again after so many years apart, the trio decided to put down roots in the community they’d grown to love and invest in a family business. They’d created the Cashmere Inn, a bed and breakfast located on the outskirts of town, next to Cinnamon Farms. The last four months had tested their limits as they learned how to work together and respect each other’s opinions, but they’d finally pulled it off. Tonight was the celebration of the opening of the inn, and they’d invited everyone they knew to celebrate and reap the rewards of their hard work. Everything was going smoothly until life decided to test exactly how far the siblings had evolved.

That challenge came in the form of their mother, Ingrid Carlton. She’d shown up unexpectedly and did what she did best for her children: ruined everything. Luckily, her older brother Nate had dragged her away before she could cause a scene, but the damage was already done in her children’s eyes. As soon as the party was over, Wade and Max had seen to bidding their guests farewell while the siblings retreated to the spacious suite Graham now resided in. It was decided unanimously by the siblings that Graham would live at the inn to keep an eye on things, Eliza would work from there, and since she had her own showroom and dance studio to maintain in town, Georgie would only pop in twice a week. Forenzo Tuleto, Eliza’s old friend, ran the day-to-day operations. He’d fallen in love with the little town and decided to move there after coming to see her and Wade.

“SHE cannot stay here. I refuse to allow her toxin to contaminate the air we breathe. I. Want. Her. Gone. That bitch dared to talk to my baby!”

It was Eliza who finally broke the silence. Her normally calm and composed demeanor was ruined by the bitter emotions brought forth from coming face-to-face with Ingrid, twenty-two years after their last encounter. Years of memories from dealing with the verbal and, sometimes, physical abuse at Ingrid’s hands were consuming her. She hadn’t missed Wade’s hurt look when she’d withdrawn from his attempts to comfort her. Later, she’d apologize, but for now, Eliza couldn’t talk to Wade about it. He would never understand what she’d endured, unlike Graham and Georgie, who’d lived it with her. With her siblings was where she belonged right now. Her hands covered her stomach protectively. An action that didn’t go unnoticed by Graham.

“I agree,” Georgie backed Eliza. “I thought she was gonna get bodied by Aunt Val when she told Camille to give her a hug! Why would she just turn up out of the blue? Ingrid had to know this was the last place she’d be welcomed!”

“Quit actin’ brand new, Little Bit. Since when has she ever given a damn about anyone but herself?” Graham made sure to keep his voice evenly measured, despite the intense displeasure that he was feeling about Ingrid’s impromptu arrival. His anger would only upset his sisters more. They needed a distraction. “You need to calm down, Eliza. The stress can’t be good for our new niece or nephew.”

Georgina gasped and rose up on her elbows to peer over Graham at her surprised sister, squealing, “You’re pregnant?! Congratulations! Why didn’t you say anything??”

Eliza’s wide smile was tremulous. “Thanks, boo. We just recently found out and didn’t want to say anything before the wedding.” She nudged Graham’s shoulder with a mock frown. “How’d you know?”

“You’re joking, right? ‘Mr.-I-Spy’ knows every damn thing!” Georgina kidded. “So, how are you feeling? Ready to do it all over again? How does Camille feel?”

“She’s excited but wants us to get married before making any announcements,” Eliza confessed with a fond smile. “Wade and I even received a lecture about us jumping the gun.”

“That’s my girl,” Graham declared proudly of his precocious niece who was eight going on forty. She was too precious with her old soul personality and sense of responsibility.

“Max wants babies, but I don’t think I’m quite there yet,” Georgie said with a worried frown marring her lovely face.

“I’m surprised it hasn’t happened already with the way you two go at it,” Graham retorted with a shudder, earning him a laugh from Eliza and a pinch to his arm from their baby sister. “Sometimes, I think y’all need a restraining order against each other.”

“Mind ya business.” Georgina lay back down and stared up at the sky. “Is it crazy that the thought of becoming a mom frightens me to death? I’m married to the most perfect man in the world, and life is pretty damn flawless right now. I want to fill our farmhouse with babies and listen to the pitter patter of little feet running around by kids who look just like him, but there’s a huge part of me that’s worried that I’ll be a horrible mother. What if I turn out like Ingrid?” She leaned her head on Graham’s broad shoulder. “I’d never be able to forgive myself if I brought a child into this world and screwed them up.”

“Georgie, you’ll make a fantastic mother!” Eliza protested vehemently. “Please don’t sell yourself short. You’re great with kids. Not only does Camille adore you but so do all of the kids who attend your dance studio.”

“You could never be like her! Just the fact that you care enough to have concerns is proof enough!” Graham informed his sister forcefully. He hated the uncertainty and vulnerability that Ingrid could still stir in Georgie. If his presence wasn’t needed here, he would have been escorting her raggedy ass across state lines by midnight.

Despite their reassuring words, doubt niggled at the back of Georgina’s mind. Instead of responding to her siblings, she changed the subject. “She didn’t look like the Ingrid I left in Las Vegas. She looked almost…normal.”

Being drug-free, well-rested, eating three square meals a day, and under twenty-four-hour supervision had done wonders for Ingrid and her wardrobe. She’d traded in her tacky and garish revealing clothing for a red peacoat, simple gray sweatshirt, dark jeans, and white canvas sneakers. Her curly, auburn shoulder-length hair was clean and pulled back from her face in a banana clip, her face was devoid of makeup, and her skin, although faintly scarred, was healthier looking. Even her normally gaunt frame was a little fuller.

Ingrid’s appearance may had been altered on the outside, but her personality hadn’t been. Graham had seen the calculated look in her eyes as she surveyed the polished surroundings and thoroughly scrutinized the well-dressed women who were present, especially their wedding rings.

“Yeah, she did,” Graham agreed cynically. “Just keep in mind that a snake sheds its skin for new beginnings as well, but it’s still a fucking snake.”

  ***

An hour later, Graham entered the inn’s large industrial kitchen to find it occupied by Max and Wade.

“Everything alright up there?” Max poured a tumbler glass half-full of bourbon and slid it across the large refurbished oak kitchen table toward his brother-in-law who pulled out a chair across from him.

“Thanks, man. Nah, it’s not alright, but we’ll get there.” Graham eyed Wade who was leaning against the island, nursing his drink. “Just give them some time and space, but don’t baby them. My sisters refuse to be treated with kid gloves. You do that and it’s a guarantee you won’t ever get laid again.”

At their identical horrified expressions, Graham snickered. “On second thought, do what y’all do best when it comes to your women.”

“I don’t like feeling this helpless,” Wade growled, Eliza’s earlier rejection still stinging. “This is supposed to be a joyous time for all of us. Any idea on what she wants?”

“A word of advice? Don’t ask her,” Graham warned darkly. “Keep an eye on her but keep your distance. Ingrid only has two levels she functions at: entitled and ‘woe-is-me’. She’s just waiting for someone to give a damn for her to show her ass and drag you into her bullshit.”

Nobody knew that better than her children.

 

***

Past...

Graham watched from the security monitor as Ingrid manically paced from wall-to-wall in her sterile white living quarters. Her eyes were bloodshot and angry as her frail body shook uncontrollably and she frenziedly scratched her head. Ingrid’s short-sleeved, peach t-shirt was drenched in perspiration and so was her ravaged face. Years ago, she’d been beautiful and vivacious before her husband introduced her to the streets. Faint traces of that beauty could still be detected in her sculpted cheekbones, the delicate point of her chin, and almond-shaped hazel eyes that sadly seemed softest and at peace when she was higher than the Empire State Building.

Appearance-wise, Ingrid was the perfect blend of his sisters, and that was what fucked with Graham most. That there was a chance that they, too, could have suffered from her lifestyle and Ingrid hadn’t done a damn thing to protect any of them. She was too busy spreading her legs and searching for her next fix to care about her offspring. The rare times she was sober, Ingrid went one of two ways with him.

One was smiling all up in his face and telling Graham how much he looked like his daddy. Then came the stories about the man, who was depicted as a god, but had beaten and pimped his own wife out, gotten her addicted to drugs, and would have sold his own children.

“Boy, your daddy was a man’s man,” Ingrid would say with a reminiscent smile that often turned into a wistful sigh. “They don’t make them like my Russie anymore.”

And what a pity that was. After his father’s death, Graham became the family’s official dragon slayer and drove all the johns who mistreated Ingrid off and afterwards life was…decent. Unfortunately, for every dragon slain, there was another that was bigger and badder. And none were more frightening than Arthur Watts.

Ingrid’s second way was she insisted that he wasn’t shit and would never amount to anything just like his sonofabitch father. So, basically if Graham had chosen to believe her, he’d have been fucked either way.

“Prognosis?” Graham abruptly inquired.

“She’s fought us every step of the way, but your mother is doing very well,” the doctor beamed with satisfaction. “You should be very proud of her, Mr. Carlton.”

“I should, shouldn’t I?” Graham answered cryptically as he monitored her every move.

He’d tracked Ingrid down after she left the halfway home Georgie checked her into. She was laying low on the westside of Las Vegas in an abandoned apartment building. The hovel was filthy and dank, smelled like mildew, and had minimal light that seeped through the boarded-up windows. This place made the apartment he’d grown up in look like a mansion. Graham could hear the roaches scattering out of his way across the linoleum floor as he approached the partially closed door of what he assumed was the bedroom.

Suddenly, the door was yanked open and a man stumbled out, pulling his pants up haphazardly. He looked startled to see the tall, imposing figure blocking his way and froze. Graham bared his teeth and cracked his knuckles menacingly, and alarmed, the man backed up, putting distance between them before sprinting for the door. Graham watched him bolt with a combination of anger, disgust, and resignation, knowing what he would find on the other side of the door. He pushed the door open to find three more men lined up against a side wall, lustily watching the scene in front of them unfold. Just like old times.

Two people occupied the filthy, stained mattress on the floor that was covered in fast food wrappers, used condoms, and empty alcohol bottles. The woman was so stoned that she wasn’t even paying attention to the scrawny black man with the conked white hair humping away on top of her. Graham’s skin crawled as he watched the man’s narrow, saggy behind twitching, damn near twerking as he pumped away inside of Ingrid.

The men turned at Graham’s entrance, and he leveled his gun at them. Two scrambled out the door first, then the apartment, leaving an older white man to glare at him balefully as he scratched his balls through his dirty, ripped sweats.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere! I already paid my ten bucks,” he whined, almost knocking Graham over with the stench of his fetid, alcohol-soaked breath. “I want my turn!”

Ten. Dollars. That’s what Ingrid was degrading herself for. Graham viciously pistol-whipped him before bringing the butt of his gun down on the man’s head, knocking him unconscious. His attention was drawn back to the bed and the pair that was oblivious to their surroundings.

“Bitch, you like this dick, don’t you? Say it! Say you like my dick!”

Instead of answering him, Ingrid gave a tired yawn, stretched, and closed her eyes. She was quickly awakened when he struck the side of her face with his fist. Her scream of pain had Graham crossing the room in two strides to grab the motherfucker by the neck and squeeze it painfully. The man howled and his dick bobbed around when Graham flung him to the floor like a rag doll and connected his steel-toed boot with the asshole’s jaw. The satisfying crunch that followed made Graham smile. The man rocked back and forth, screaming in agony and cradling his broken jaw as Ingrid peered fearfully up at Graham between her splayed fingers. The panic in her hazel eyes receded only to be replaced with hopefulness as she lowered her hands.

Graham’s stomach tightened with revulsion when she tentatively whispered, “Russie? Is that you, baby? I ain’t dreamin’, right? You for real?”

Jesus. Christ. Not this fuckery again.

“Nah, I ain’t your precious Russie,” Graham spoke bitterly as he avoided looking at her naked form by scooping her clothes up from the floor and flinging them at her. “Get your ass up and dressed, Ingrid. We’re leaving.”

Recognition dawned slowly in Ingrid’s eyes. She stood up and shuffled into her clothes. “Boy, what in the hell are you doin’ here?” Ingrid yanked her short, threadbare dress down as she sneered malevolently, “I bet that whiny little bitch Georgina went runnin’ and cryin’ to you! I know she put you up to this shit—”

Her words were cut off as Graham’s hand wrapped around her throat and lifted her up, holding her against the wall effortlessly. Fear made her eyes bulge as she desperately clawed at his hand and he tightened his grip until she stopped moving. Her eyes darted around the room furtively, looking for an escape, but none would be forthcoming. From this day on, Graham would make sure Ingrid was held accountable for all her actions.

Regret ate away at his soul that this was what they’d come to. Graham didn’t like putting his hands on a woman in this manner, but unfortunately, this was what Ingrid understood best. His voice was deceptively polite when he made his point as if they were discussing the weather. “If you ever disrespect my sister again…I. Will. Kill. You. Blink once if you understand.”

She did and Graham relaxed his hold slightly. “Excellent. Now in my opinion, Georgie was a little too lenient with you regarding that halfway house bullshit. I know the perfect place for you…”

The doctor’s voice broke Graham out of his reverie. “Would you like your mother moved to our community center once she completes treatment?”

“No. Keep her in treatment until I say otherwise. I’m going down to see her.”

***

“YOU BASTARD!”

An enraged Ingrid screamed as the automatic door to her room slid open and Graham entered the confined space before it closed again. She launched herself at her son, fists flailing. “I knew I should have aborted you sorry-ass bastards when I had the chance! You can’t keep me here! Get the fuck outta my way! I’m leaving now!”

“Sit your ass down!” Graham ordered harshly as he easily deflected her blows. Shaking and shivering, Ingrid’s glare was full of fury as she grudgingly obeyed him, restlessly twitching and plucking at the comforter.

“What’s the matter, Ingrid? Reality ain’t your cup of tea?” Graham taunted as he stood over her with a derisive smirk. “It sucks when you can’t hide behind drugs and alcohol, doesn’t it? Everything sharpens into blinding clarity and there’s no room for denial. You gotta own your shit.”

“Leave me alone!” Ingrid swiped her arm across her snotty nose and drew her knees up to rest her face on it. Trying to block him out, she began to wail pitifully.

“You must really think I’m ‘boo-boo the fool’. Spare me your theatrics, Ingrid. Nobody’s fallin’ for your pathetic tricks.”

Immediately, she raised her head and confirmed what Graham suspected— nary a tear in sight.

“What do you want from me?!” Every word was soaked in venom and in her hazel eyes, so like Eliza’s and Camille’s, Graham saw nothing but corrosive hatred blazing at him.

Graham recoiled in disgust from her. “Ingrid, I don’t want a damn thing from you. I’m here because you had no business disrupting Georgie’s life. Instead of doing what I really want to do to you, I’m giving you a gift.”

“What kind of gift?” Ingrid inquired warily.

“I’m talking about the gift of life. I’m giving yours back. You’re going to stay here and work through all your fucked-up shit and then go about your business, functioning like a pseudo normal member of society.”

He squatted down until they were eye level. “Stay away from my family, Ingrid, or I promise you won’t like the consequences.” Graham paused to make sure his words were sinking in, to allow her to see the dangerous intent in his eyes. “Whenever you think of defying me, just remember what happened to Watts when he also took me for a joke. I was just a kid back then, Ingrid. I promise you that I’ve only gotten better with age.”

Ingrid said nothing but Graham could see the defiance warring with trepidation in her eyes until acceptance claimed its rightful spot. Good. He stood up and walked to the door when Ingrid made one last attempt at having the last word.

“How dare you!” Ingrid screamed at his retreating back. “I didn’t raise my children to talk to me like this!” 

“Lucky for your children, you didn’t raise them at all.”

***

“So, it’s a damn waiting game?” Max questioned sardonically, his black eyes hard with displeasure. Lips twisted in a snarl, he shook his head in the negative. “You know that’s not how I’m built, so miss me with that bullshit, man. I saw what dealing with Ingrid did to my wife firsthand! I won’t have her coming here to destroy everything we’ve been building.”

“Man, I know exactly how you’re built because you sure as hell wouldn’t be with my sister if you were a punk. I also get where you’re coming from, but Ingrid can only do that if your house was built on a shaky foundation to begin with,” Graham challenged with a raised eyebrow as he surveyed the loves of his sisters’ lives. “Is that what the two of you are tryna tell me?”

“Fuck. No.” Wade spoke succinctly for him and his best friend, determination blazing from his dark blue eyes. He set his drink down with a thud on the counter and straightened his dark suit jacket. “I think it’s time I remind my woman of that fact as well. Eliza seems to be suffering under the impression that we face difficult times apart. That shit doesn’t fly with me.”

He strode toward the door, but it swung open before Wade reached it to reveal Eliza and Georgie, hands tightly clasped as they entered the kitchen.

“Relax, Wyatt Earp, I’m right here,” Eliza remarked dryly, squeezing Georgina’s hand reassuringly before releasing it to slide into Wade’s outstretched arms, allowing him to pull her tightly against him. Despite her initial resistance to his attempts at comforting her, Eliza realized being wrapped in Wade’s strong arms was exactly where she needed to be. His lips brushed the side of her forehead, and she slid her arms around his waist and pressed a kiss to the muscular column of his neck. “I owe you an apology for earlier, babe. I saw her and my self-preservation kicked in. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to shut you out like that.”

Wade rubbed her back in slow, soothing circles as he dropped a lingering kiss on the corner of her mouth. “It’s a good thing you came to your senses, love, because I was on my way to set you straight.”

Eliza’s hazel eyes smoldered with desire in response of his claim while her hands slipped down to slide into the back pockets of his black dress slacks. Her lips quirked up in a teasing smile as she seductively murmured, “Hmmm. Maybe I should I just go back upstairs and wait for you?” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at Wade. “You know I love the way you, ahem, ‘set me straight’. Oh, and don’t forget to bring your cuffs, Sheriff.”

“Yeah, we’re all still here and can hear you!” Graham reminded her with a cringe of disgust, prompting a laugh from Max and Georgie at his expense while Eliza and Wade remained oblivious in their own little world. “And some of us had appetites.”

“Give it up, Graham. You’re surrounded by love,” Georgie crowed from her position on Max’s lap where her husband held her securely with his arms possessively circling her waist. “It’s just a matter of time before Cupid taps that ass, big brother.”

“If he hasn’t already,” Max added slyly, earning him a middle finger from Graham.

“There’s not a chance in hell of that ever happening,” Graham said confidently. “I don’t do relationships.”

“Uh-huh; that’s what you say now.” Max remained unconvinced. “You do know that the Spring Chickens have started another town wager, this time in your name?”

“Say what?!” Graham’s incredulous expression was priceless to the couple as he begged his sister, “Please tell me his ass is lyin’.”

“Max!” Georgie attempted to cover her husband’s mouth. He managed to avoid her hand and cup her face to give her a resounding kiss that melted her objections. “That was supposed to be a secret!”

“Woman, what kind of brother-in-law would I be if I didn’t warn him?” Max chuckled good-naturedly.

“How about the kind who put two hundred dollars in the pool himself?” Wade quizzed his friend, laughing at the death glare Max shot him.

“Like you didn’t match it?”

“Jackasses.” Graham glanced suspiciously at his sisters who were suddenly preoccupied with studying the assorted medallion patterns they’d tastefully decorated the ceiling with. A sense of foreboding filled him at their guilty looks. With a pained expression, Graham probed, “Please tell me that the two of you didn’t partake in this foolery as well.”

“Weeell, at least the proceeds go to a worthy cause,” Georgina cheerfully consoled her irate brother. “The money from Max’s wager was donated to Baymoor High. Lucky for the students, the amount was large enough for the school faculty to purchase new uniforms in every sport for the boys and girls.”

“Do I even want to know what it’s up to?” Although Graham was horrified by this ridiculous turn of events, he hoped that the women of Baymoor at least thought enough of him to make the pool interesting.

“I believe Ms. Ida said there’s enough in there for at least six months’ worth of mortgage payments for the average Baymoor house right now,” Eliza managed to say with a straight face. Her eyes drifted upward to Graham’s bald head. “Word is, Armisha Johnson’s tithing is at an all-time low because she likes the fact that you maintain your bald head. She said, and I quote, ‘Stubble only gives her rug burn on her thighs’. She already knows that wouldn’t be an issue with your cue ball head.”

“The good reverend?! Jesus, be a fence!” Graham groaned painfully as he downed the liquor in one fiery gulp then snatched the bottle for a refill. “Don’t mind me; I’m just going to drink that image away.”

“How long do you intend to be gone?” Max asked as Wade and Eliza joined them at the table.

Graham concentrated on the dark amber liquid he was pouring as adrenaline rushed through his body at the thought of finally coming face-to-face with the woman who’d haunted his dreams as well as most of his waking moments. Annabelle Gaines.

He raised his glass to his lips. “For however long it takes to get what I want. But first, I’ve got one stop to make.”

“Should I ask why and where?” Wade’s somber expression matched Max’s as they both knew the mission Graham was on.

Graham met the eyes of both men, and understanding passed between them before he spoke with finality. “No, Sheriff, you really shouldn’t.”

***

“You really won’t let me stay at the house?” Ingrid was filled with dismay as she watched her older brother and one-time protector unload his trunk. She hadn’t anticipated not having a place to stay when she came home. She was anticipating Nate being proud that she’d finally completed her stint in rehab and willing to overlook her past transgressions. “But I’m clean now! It’s been more than ninety days and I’m in an Outpatient Program with a sponsor I talk to everyday. Nate, I did what everyone wanted!”

Nate lifted her last bag from his trunk and a silently fuming Val shut it. He pointed to the faded brown door with the number 89 on it. “Open the damn door, Ingrid. That’s your problem. You didn’t do it for you. My son had to go and drag your ass out of some rathole and threaten you. There was no choice for you to make on your own. If Graham hadn’t gotten you clean, you’d still be a swamp-ass drug addict! I don’t let addicts into the home I built in love with my wife and considered to be my children’s safe haven. This is where you will stay and I will pay for a month’s stay. I suggest you find yourself a job or you’ll be out on your ass.”

“They don’t even live there anymore and they’re not your children!” Ingrid knew she didn’t have a leg to stand on, but felt some sort of stand was necessary.

“They sure as hell aren’t yours, Ingrid!” Val seethed coming to stand beside her husband. “You didn’t cherish and love them like we have! You preferred to play Russian Roulette with their lives instead.” She got in Ingrid’s face. “They are my babies! I should beat your ass for the shape you left them in! You will accept my husband’s generosity and submit to a weekly drug test. The first time you come back positive I’ll come back and throw you on your narrow-ass myself. Are we clear?!”

Meekly Ingrid nodded her head and dragged a suitcase to the door. After shooting his wife raised eyebrows, Nate followed suit.

On the way home he grinned at Val. “I don’t think I ever met that woman before! Where you been hiding her?”

“Were you trying to meet a woman like that, Nathaniel?” Val asked sweetly.

“No, ma’am. She scared the hell outta me.”

“Good, then you have nothing to worry about. She only comes out when someone talks about her babies.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two

 

Baltimore, Maryland

 

“Hank, it was great seeing you! We’re going to meet up for another game of golf soon! Now that you’re retired, you have plenty of time to improve your game!” Sherman Fowler joked with his former colleague, Hank Belcher and his wife. “Loretta, it was a pleasure as always. I’ll make sure to pass your well wishes on to the missus.”

“Yes, please do give her my best! We must get together soon for dinner, Sherman. Take care!” 

After exchanging hugs and air kisses, Sherman was finally able to excuse himself from the retirement party. It was about damn time. He’d been schmoozing it up for three hours with the large group as the liquor and appetizers passed freely. Sherman was now ready to go home and deal with the problems at hand. Correction, his main problem from where all his other problems stemmed. His wife, Hilda.

He’d spent the evening making excuses for her absence after she failed to arrive at six on the dot as promised. Hilda knew how important punctuality was to Sherman, and yet she’d chosen to ignore his calls. It had briefly occurred to him that she might be lying injured somewhere unable to reach out, but Sherman didn’t give a damn. When he called her, Hilda knew to drop whatever else she had going on to be one hundred percent accessible for him. She’d greatly embarrassed him tonight and such an act of defiance would not be tolerated nor go unaddressed. Clearly, a trip to their basement was needed to bring things back into perspective for his dumbass wife.

Sherman didn’t even know why he bothered trying to teach her anything after twenty years of marriage. Hilda was a pathetic loser and as useful as a two-legged mule. Same as the first day he’d met her. She’d never done anything worthy enough to win his approval and had made a mockery of his manhood by cursing him with daughters as worthless as herself. Sherman needed strapping boys to carry on his family’s legacy, not fat simpletons who cowered at the sound of his voice.

His phone rang and he fished it out of his suit jacket pocket. Sherman grimaced at the number he didn’t recognize because he knew exactly who the caller would be. Reluctantly, he answered the call. “What do you want, Davis? Did you finally find a place to stay? If so, I want all your shit out of my spare bedroom tonight. You’re wanted for questioning in Baymoor, and it wouldn’t be a good look for me to be caught harboring a fugitive.”

“Your house is on fire!”

Sherman stopped mid-stride. “What the hell do you mean my house is on fire?”

“As in that bitch looks like the neighborhood decided to throw a bonfire party! What do you think I mean?! I left when the cops and fire department arrived. I’m calling from a payphone down the street from your neighborhood.”

“Where are my wife and kids?” Sherman silently prayed they were inside and trapped in the fire. Then he would start all over again. At forty-five, he could still get another wife. A younger one that would bare him plenty of sons. The role of a grieving widower would appeal to some bleeding-heart broad.

“Bad luck for you, Sherm,” Davis cackled. “They weren’t at home.”

Of course not, Sherman thought dismally. Because if it wasn’t for bad luck, he’d sure as hell have no luck with the women.

“Don’t you think it’s odd that Jessie died, then my pops, and now your house is on fire?” Davis asked abruptly. “Too many coincidences, cuz.”

It was a theory that had crossed Sherman’s mind but hadn’t wanted to express to his volatile cousin’s face. Davis had gone off the deep end, and no one in their family now wanted anything to do with him.

“Yeah, but they didn’t start until you went mental!” Sherman countered angrily. “Letting your ego get the best of you with that farmer! I spoke to both Jessie and your father before they died. Jessie put you out because he was an officer of the law, and he’d already helped you out of another precarious situation once before. Then he died from a home invasion. Uncle B cut you off until you could get yourself straight and suddenly, he’s dead? Your mother is gone and I’ve wondered if you had anything to do with her disappearance?” Sherman derided. “I refuse to let you stay and now my house has caught fire? And you just happened to be down the street?! Yes, I do see coincidences and I’m afraid this is where we will have to part ways, cousin.”

“I didn’t have shit to do with any of those things! Don’t turn your back on me, Sherman!” Davis’s voice was rife with angry desperation. “Please! I’ve got nothing left! Everyone I know is dead or disappearing! Are you listening to me, Sherman? Sherman!”

If he gave Davis money, then he’d only be back and begging for more, Sherman thought with disgust. Fowler men were supposed to be strong and uplifting. His cousin was just as stupid and pathetic as Hilda. Sherman disconnected the call and continued to his car. His thoughts were preoccupied with his family’s location, calling his insurance adjuster, and punishing Hilda. Sherman didn’t even hear the second set of footsteps behind him until it was too late.

***

He was drowning in the agonizing pain crashing over his body in violent waves. It was blinding Sherman, and he was choking on it with every breath he tried to draw through clenched teeth as sweat dripped from his forehead. The crunch of footsteps made him shut his eyes and shrink as if to make himself invisible as the big man returned to squat above him. Sherman flinched when he rapped him on his forehead with his gloved hand.

Patiently, he waited for Sherman to open his eyes. Sherman knew he had no choice but to obey or suffer the consequences. Finally, he did and was once more assailed with terror at the face smiling down at him. 

“I’m disappointed that our time together is coming to an end, Sherman.” It was said with such regret that Sherman actually believed him. “I guess you were better at dishing out beatings than taking them. Your bitch-ass broke with my first punch.”

Sherman’s body was being flayed alive with agony. He no longer cared about saving face and his righteous Fowler pride. The man pulled a phone out of his back pants pocket and scrolled through the contacts before pressing one. He listened to it ring before someone answered. He held the phone close to Sherman’s ear. “Someone wants to talk to you…”

***

Graham was settled on the bed of his hotel room with the menu for room service. He was contemplating between fish and chips or surf and turf when his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and answered with, “What do you need? Want me to find out exactly how many bodies your wife has buried?”

A whoop of laughter filled Graham’s ear before his good friend Casey Sullivan’s thick southern drawl filled his ear. The two men had become great friends through Nero Santos, an infamous lawyer retained by Graham’s now deceased brother-in-law, David Rossini to represent Graham in Arthur Watts’s death. Nero, now also deceased, was not only Casey’s mentor in law school, but turned out to be Sidra’s, Casey’s wife, father as well.

“Careful, brother. If you manage to find that out, and she knows, you could be next. What’s that sayin’? Dead men tell no tales?”

“Depends on how they died,” Graham replied enigmatically. “How’s everything going?”

“Can’t complain. Hell, you’ve met my wife! Why would I complain?” Casey bragged.

“Yeah, I gotta say. Sid is a good look for you and you balance each other very well. The two of y’all almost manage to make crazy look sane, man,” Graham kidded. “Almost being the operative word.”

Casey snorted. “Mark my words; your time will come. I’m thinkin’ you’re way overdue. It’s time for you to settle down with a nice lady and have some babies. Give my baby girl another cousin to play with.”

“Have you been gossiping with your brothers, Max, Zay, or Wade about me?” Graham asked suspiciously. It wouldn’t surprise him if that was the case. His circle was tight, a close-knit family formed not by blood, but a common bond of how much blood you’d spill or lengths you’d go to protect your loved ones. “I’ve already told all of y’all that married life isn’t for me. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t begrudge any of you for your choice of happiness, fam. I just know that commitment isn’t in my cards.”

“Well then, you hold onto them cards real tight and make sure you’re ready to lay ‘em down when the right woman comes along. I’d hate for you to miss out on somethin’ wonderful,” Casey said seriously. “You know I like shootin’ the shit with you, but the reason I was callin’ is because I just saw on the news that Sherman Fowler, a prestigious judge in the ninth circuit of Maryland, was found dead with a gunshot wound in an alley two days ago. His body was discovered buried underneath some debris in a dumpster.”

“Almost as if the trash had taken itself out,” Graham drawled as he perused the beer menu.

“It looked like he’d been worked over pretty thoroughly. The stab wound to his abdomen wasn’t a clean one, so he didn’t die right away. Apparently, his larynx was crushed and fingers and limbs were broken, so there was no way he could have crawled out or called out for help. It’s being ruled as a violent robbery-homicide as his wallet was emptied of cash and credit cards. He’s survived by his wife, Hilda and their two teenage daughters.”

Casey paused to see if Graham would respond, but his friend remained silent. “As if that wasn’t hard enough on the ladies, the Fowler’s house caught fire while the women were out shopping together at the time the judge was shot. They say the fire started as a result of faulty wires in the basement, which is a damn shame. The room couldn’t even be accessed because Fowler kept it locked at all times and only he had the code for it.”

“Is that right? My heart goes out to the ladies.” Which was true, but Casey was wrong. Hilda Fowler had known the code. Graham could vividly recall racks of wooden paddles and belts in that room of torture that was padded for silence when she unlocked the door for him. Hilda had confessed that sometimes, she and her daughters were locked in there for days at a time for ‘disobeying’. She could never know the strength it took Graham not to react to her words. All he could do was promise her justice and revenge, which she got when Graham held the phone up to Sherman’s ear.

“Who’s the bitch now, Sherman?” Hilda taunted. “My friend is an honorable man, and he promised me that you would suffer slowly. I’m glad because I want you to die knowing that me and my daughters will go on to live happy lives while you rot in hell. Your fucked-up legacy will die with you, Sherman. You. Lose. I. Win.”

“Hey, which sounds better? Fish and chips or surf and turf?” Graham was uninterested in the details. After all, he’d been there and didn’t need a rehashing.

Before Casey could answer, his wife Sidra screeched in Graham’s ear. “Get them both, Graham! Don’t forget to ask for extra tartar sauce for the fish! No wait! Salt and vinegar. Mmmmm! That sounds so good right now. Take pics! Or better yet, I’ll just stay on the phone and you can describe how it tastes! I like my steak medium well!”

“For the love of God, woman!” Casey bellowed in outrage as he came back on the line. “You just ate lunch - yours and mine! Why don’t you go and lay down?! All that damn jumpin’ around can’t be good for my little girl!”

Graham listened to the stomping on the other end of the phone followed by a door slamming.

“I think that’s my cue to ghost,” he chuckled as Casey cursed under his breath. “You’ve got your hands full over there, and unless I misinterpreted that slamming door, you’re gonna be sleeping on the sofa with both eyes open.”

“Man, please! Right now, I’m her body pillow, and she can’t even get to sleep without laying on me,” Casey said in a voice so tender, that once again, Graham was left marveling at the changes in his brothers’ lives. Like him, they worked hard, reaped the rewards of success, and never lacked for female companionship. Marriage and commitment had been the furthest things from their minds. Then like a set of dominoes, they’d fallen one by one for extraordinary women. From Casey, his brothers - Jack and Darby, Isaiah Davies, Max, to soon-to-be Wade, all were members of the ‘Happily Married Club’.

Casey’s voice turned serious, drawing Graham’s attention back to their conversation.  “Before I go though, I just want to remind you that if you need any assistance in accomplishin’ your mission, we’re here for you. As many times as you’ve come through for all of us, from obtainin’ the information on Noelle’s ex, to the bastard that put his hands on my wife, to the dirt on our clients and adversaries, it’s the least we could do, brother. Say the word and it’s done.”

Graham put the menu down to pick up the worn dossier that traveled with him everywhere he went before dropping it back on the nightstand. He didn’t need the picture of Annabelle. They’d be coming face-to-face soon enough. “I appreciate that, Case. Thanks.”

“Not a problem. Later, G.”

After they hung up, Graham swung his legs off the bed and stared at his phone, debating if he should make the next call. Graham had a thing about loose ends. They tended to unravel even more if left unattended to. He placed the call, this time to his Uncle Nate, who picked up on the first ring. “Hey, son! Everything okay?”

“I’m good, Unc. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Nope, I’ve been up for awhile. Couldn’t sleep so I decided to have a nightcap and go over the details for my new menu. What’s on your mind, young buck?” Nate asked affectionately. “You always have my undivided attention.”

The relationship between uncle and nephew resembled one more of a father and son. Graham’s biological father had been Nate’s archrival in college, but as far as Graham was concerned, his uncle had no competition. Ingrid had kept her children away and cut herself of from her brother and his wife, but when Eliza reached out to Nate and he found out what was happening with them, Nate had been on the first flight to Las Vegas to be there for him. At the time, Graham was too full of anger and resentment over everything that he and his sisters had endured to be as opening and receptive to his uncle as the girls had been.

***

“Look, man, I appreciate you comin’ all this way, but I ain’t goin’ back with you,” Graham stated matter-of-factly as he stepped over the broken furniture in the living room of the apartment. Nate had driven him there under the understanding that Graham had personal items he wanted to pick up before he, Nate, and Georgie returned to Baymoor. Graham smiled with pride as he looked at the white wall decorated in dark brownish-red stains that ranged in size from flecks to large, red splatters. The cops had deemed this the scene of a homicide, but Graham called it a motherfucking masterpiece. It was his greatest accomplishment, and he’d do it all over again without hesitation if he had to.

Nate stepped over to the wall and assessed the damage before gazing at the large matching blot on the carpet. The evidence of Graham’s rampage and the viciousness of it distressed Nate and made him deeply ashamed that he hadn’t done more than taken Ingrid’s word that everything was fine.

“I hear what you’re saying, Graham, but you’re still a minor,” Nate replied evenly as he took in the worn furniture and carpet. He walked into the kitchen and wasn’t surprised to find it empty of food and held only the barest essentials such as silverware, cups, and plates. Nate opened the cabinets and found cereal, but not much else except a couple of canned goods. The fridge held nothing but liquor, milk, and a pitcher of juice. Georgie’s artwork was taped to the fridge, and it was the only bright spot Nate had encountered in the dreary apartment. “How many bedrooms are there?”

Graham grunted and pointed at two closed doors. “That bedroom was Watts’s and Ingrid’s, and the other one was her ‘office’.”

The word ‘office’ was spat in such a bitter, corrosively acidic way that Nate comprehended it was the room where Ingrid received her customers. His heart broke all over again that Ingrid had spiraled so out of control and she’d pulled her children into this nightmare. “And the last bedroom?”

Graham turned around and Nate followed him down a short hallway to the door on the right. Inside of the small room were two full-sized beds, a closet, overflowing with clothes for the siblings, and a dresser with a television on top of it. There was a small window at the top of the far wall, but hardly any light shone through. It was claustrophobic, but Nate could see they tried to keep it as neat and orderly as possible.

“This is our bedroom,” Graham spoke dispassionately. “When we’re here, this is where we eat and hang out. The girls share a bed, and I got the one closest to the door. With Ingrid’s revolving door of company, I didn’t want the girls sharing a room away from me, making them easy targets for those sorry motherfuckers. The girls don’t come home unless I’m here as well. Georgie has a babysitter downstairs, and either Eliza or I would pick her up. We stuck together at all times.” He pointed to a stack of weights on the side of his bed. “At night, I jam my weights under the door, so no one can get in, and if Eliza or Georgie needed to use the bathroom, I’d escort them.”

Graham picked up a black Cabbage Patch Kid doll and a medium-sized, clear plastic box filled with pastel colored Legos and handed them to Nate. Then he walked over the bed closest to the window and pulled it away from the wall. Nate approached to observe his nephew who bent down and lifted a small, discreetly cut flap on the side of the box spring. Graham withdrew a small tin can and opened it up and pulled out a small wad of money. “This is the money that I’ve been saving from my job. I tried to give it to Eliza, but she refused to take it.”

“Here.” He thrust the money at Nate. “Now, I can put it to good use. Georgie gets a fresh start. I don’t want her to want for anything. I’ve decided to get myself emancipated and go to work full time. I’ll keep my job at the gym, and my boy said he could hook me up with a job at the construction site he works at.”

Nate eyed the crinkled bills but did not take them. “What about your education, Graham?”

His nephew rolled his eyes and shrugged his big shoulders carelessly. “So, I’ll just go to night school! It ain’t a big deal. As soon as my check starts rollin’ in regularly, I promise I’ll send money every month. Don’t…don’t bother Eliza with any of this.” Graham pressed his lips together tightly as his eyes dropped to his shoes. With a furrowed brow, he studied them as if completely fascinated by them. He cleared his throat noisily before continuing, “We’ve burdened her long enough.”

Nate reached out and curled his hand around his nephew’s. “Son, keep your money. You have my word that Georgie will never want for anything.”

“Cause your word is your bond, right?” Graham jeered as he snatched his hand away and tossed the money on the bed. “Man, whateva!”

His nephew was full of anger and unbridled hostility toward him, Nate realized. Graham wouldn’t look at him as he shifted around him and grabbed a duffle bag from the closet and started yanking his clothes off the hangers and flinging them into the bag aggressively. Nate’s heart was heavy for all the weight that had been put on his nieces’ and nephew’s shoulders. Shame washed over him, percolating into his skin, and Nate knew that as long as he lived, he would never forgive himself for what happened to his family. He should have been more vigilant in his watch.

“I understand that you’re mad at me, son, but you can’t do this on your own,” Nate began, but Graham’s vigorous headshake gave him pause.

“Nah, I ain’t mad at you. I’d have to give a damn about something first in order to be mad. You’re just like every other relative in my life who’s disappointed me,” Graham spoke in a neutral tone, but the rage and hurt in his eyes denounced him a liar. “I’m mad at myself for believing you were different. This shit is all on me.”

“No, Graham. This is on ME,” Nate spoke sharply as he set down Georgie’s toys. “You’ve got every right to your feelings. I didn’t do enough. I just believed what you kids and Ingrid told me. I was so busy and wrapped up trying to get my business up and running that I never stopped to question anything.”

“The hell you talkin’ about?!” Graham threw the clothes on the bed and squared up, fists curled and nostrils flaring uncontrollably. “I ain’t never said shit to you since we left Baymoor! You remember that, right?! I was only three but, nigga, I remember that shit like it was yesterday!” His lips twisted into an ugly sneer. “You hugged me real tight and said you’d always be here for us if we needed you! Well, guess what?! We fuckin’ needed you, but you cut us all off! So, don’t stand you’re lyin’ ass in front of me and fuckin’ tell me we talked!” Graham barked.

“Son, I understand that everything is a mess right now, and emotions are running high. Everyone is doing their part to figure stuff out, but I’m giving you fair warning that if another cuss word flies out of that loose mouth of yours, then you and I are gonna be in a place there won’t be any turning back from,” Nate warned him coldly, forcing his nephew to take measure of exactly who his adversary would be. Unlike Watts’s fat ass, Nate was athletic and powerfully built. He would prove to be a formidable opponent for Graham if he foolishly chose to go that route.

“Then stop lying! You never called or gave us another thought!” Graham shouted in a voice raw with his unchecked emotions as he spun away. “You must think I’m on some straight sucka shit!”

Oozing with uncurbed fury, he kicked the closet door in, using it as an outlet for his volatile emotions. Graham repeated the action until the wood door splintered apart, and Nate snatched him away from the mess, whirling him around to confront him.

“I sent money to your mother every month! She called me, and I spoke to you and Eliza every other week! Not Georgie because of her supposed speech impediment and shyness. I’ve got your school pictures hanging in my hallway at home but was waiting on Eliza’s senior ones,” Nate swore as he swiped his hand over his face, realizing exactly how thoroughly Ingrid had manipulated all of them. His bleak eyes met Graham’s as he exclaimed in a voice taut with pain, “Don’t you understand what this means?!”

Graham’s head was aching as he tried to comprehend the extent of Ingrid’s betrayal. His instincts told him that it was Barbara’s family. Like Ingrid, Barbara was another prostitute who worked alongside Ingrid in the brothel Russell previously owned. She was Ingrid’s only ‘friend’ that only came around when she needed a fix which Ingrid always had and now Graham knew why.

She endlessly complained about being broke, but Ingrid always made sure they got new outfits for school and took pictures. The realization of the reason behind her motives, sickened Graham to an all-new level of disgust. There was no way his uncle would have continued to send money if he didn’t have some sort of proof that they were okay.

Barbara had kids and tons of nephews and nieces who were criminals in the making but no younger ones. It would have been easy to convince them to impersonate him and his sisters to get what they wanted. Instead of taking care of her children, Ingrid allowed the responsibilities fall on them while she blew through the money, buying drugs and God knows what else. She’d duped all of them, including her piece of shit husband.

“She played us,” Graham conceded in a dull, lifeless voice. “We wanted to come and live with you, Grandma, and Grandpa, but Ingrid said that y’all had disowned us. I shoulda known something was up when you got here so quickly.”

“Nothing would have kept me away from you guys, Graham,” Nate vowed thickly. “On my life, I promise you, son. I didn’t know. I promise you I didn’t know…”

He grasped the boy to him. No, not a boy. Graham was a young man, no, a warrior that had taken on a battle that he never should have had to wage. Nate hugged his nephew’s reticent form tightly, repeating his words until Graham finally broke down crying. It was the affirmation that he didn’t know he was seeking. To know that someone actually gave a shit what happened to the Carlton siblings when they’d been abandoned by the two people who should have readily laid down their lives to protect their children.

Bawling uncontrollably, Graham clung to his uncle, allowing himself to be comforted for the first time in his life. Against his neck, Graham could feel dampness and realized that the older man was also crying. It was confirmed when Nate choked out, “I love you, son, and I’m not going anywhere. Come back to Baymoor with me. Give me the chance to prove it to you.”

***

“What is she doing here?” Eliza demanded as she looked outside the window of the Denny’s Nate had brought them to for breakfast. It was their last day together as a family before Graham and Georgie went back to Baymoor with Nate. They’d decided to go to breakfast, the movies, and then Circus Circus before getting Eliza settled into her new studio apartment.

Although Nate urged her to come with them, Eliza was opting to stay in Las Vegas for the time being. With a flushed face, she’d confided to her uncle that she couldn’t leave just yet. Nate fervently hoped it wasn’t because of David Rossini’s interest in her. He’d met the sophisticated Italian businessman who was unfailingly polite and professional, but Nate had not been oblivious to his interest in Eliza. He was grateful to him and his lawyer, Nero Santos in helping his family, but this time Nate, would be more vigilant in his efforts to protect his recently reunited family. He intended to have a word with David later this afternoon before they caught their flight home.

Nate followed Eliza’s stare out the window and saw Ingrid sitting in a Chrysler Sebring convertible with an older, overweight white man with a head of badly bleached blonde hair. He wore an impatient expression on his bloated, heavily jowled face as he gestured toward the restaurant while Ingrid rolled her eyes at him. Nate was disgusted when his sister leaned over and gave him a kiss with tongue action included. 

“I posted her bail this morning and told her that she needed to sign over custody for Graham and Georgie before we head out.” Nate leveled his somber eyes at each of the children. “I told her to meet us here so that perhaps, you could have some closure.”

“I don’t need closure,” Eliza replied icily. “That bitch has BEEN dead to me. I lived with the fear that she’d get us split up and the lie that you didn’t want us. We were trapped in that nightmare because of her greed and selfishness.” She turned to Georgie who sat quietly between her and Graham, staring at Nate with large apprehensive eyes and rubbing her fingers together furiously, something Nate realized she did whenever she was emotionally overloaded.

Graham picked up Georgie’s hand and kissed it. Immediately, she stopped. “Chill, Little Bit. Everything’s all good.”

Georgie squeezed his hand as Graham explained to Nate in a low voice, “I think she still believes there’s some good left in Ingrid.” He shrugged his shoulders carelessly. “It’s not hard to understand why. Kids expect and want the best of their parents, to know they matter to them.”

“Is that what you want as well?”

Lips twisted in a cynical smile, and eyes hardened by ugly realities, Graham replied, “Unc, I haven’t been a kid in a long time. Let’s get this over with.”

Nate paid the bill, and they walked outside and stood on the sidewalk, forcing Ingrid to exit the convertible and come to them while her sugar daddy wisely stayed in his car. She toddled in ridiculously high black heels and a miniscule black and white polka dot tube dress. Despite her years of hard living and the thick caking of makeup, she was still pretty. Nate could see a little bit of the sister who used to follow him around and hang on his every word. 

Ingrid sneered at the condemnation in Eliza’s and Graham’s eyes and refused to meet Nate’s as she snatched the papers out of his hands and signed them sloppily. Georgie, she ignored altogether, notwithstanding the hopeful look in her youngest daughter’s eyes. The asshole in the car rudely honked but stopped when his eyes connected with Nate’s. To her brother, Ingrid said, “Now you have three brats to feed. Hope it’s all you want it to be, ‘Saint Nate’. Good riddance.”

She teetered away but stopped when Eliza shouted, “Ingrid!”

Eliza met her halfway in the parking lot and spoke to her mother in a low tone. Nate, Graham, and Georgie were not sure what was said and could only observe the way Ingrid’s eyes widened as she stumbled away from her daughter, leaving Eliza standing in the middle of the parking lot staring after her coldly.

That’s when the man spoke, “Baby, why don’t you talk to your oldest daughter? She’s a looker and would definitely bring in more money so you won’t have to work so hard.”

 

He laughed lecherously and licked his lips lewdly at Eliza as he perused her body, and that’s when Graham lost it. He ran past Ingrid and snatched the man out of the car, beating his ass with a fury he’d thought died with Watts as Ingrid screamed loudly for someone to call the cops. By the time Nate managed to pull him off, the man was unconscious.

 

Graham was hauled off to the juvenile detention center, and it was there that he found out his victim suffered from a concussion, broken nose, several broken ribs, and a shattered left cheekbone. But he was alive. Pity.

 

Even when Graham didn’t get the chance to return to Baymoor with him and Georgie, Nate kept his word. Graham was transferred from the juvenile detention center to a group home and received visits not just from Eliza, Georgie, and Nate, but Aunt Valerie as well. But the group home was full of troubled youths who were filled with as much anger and pain as Graham. Confrontations and strife were inevitable. Graham wasn’t one to back down from a fight or hold his tongue, which earned him V.I.P. status on the homeowners’ shit list. By the time he turned eighteen, Graham was in trouble again, this time for alleged grand larceny. Unfortunately for him, the judge was tired of seeing and hearing about his antics, so the only deal Nero was able to secure for him was either the military or jail time. Graham wisely chose the Marines.

***

“Everything is going as planned, but that’s not why I’m calling. I guess you could say I’m checking in on everyone there.”

Nate laughed on his end. “You want to know if my sister has managed to hoodwink me and scam every man in town out of their money yet, right? Graham, it’s been less than forty-eight hours! She’s good but not that good.”

Graham relaxed. “Then I shouldn’t be worried because you’re laughing? If she’d already planted a knife in your back, laughing wouldn’t be possible.”

“Son, after all the crap she’s pulled, Ingrid would have to drive that knife, or better yet a stake, through my heart in order to get me to stop breathing down her neck,” Nate replied somberly. “She insisted on staying here but I don’t want her in my children’s sanctuary. Y’all may be grown, but this will always be your home as well.”

 “Which we appreciate,” Graham spoke with great feeling. “I know that I was a pain in the ass to you and Aunt Val before pulling myself together—”

“Yes, you were, but we wouldn’t have had it any other way. You were young, and there was a lot to figure out. I think the military was a far better choice than jail time. You even reenlisted because you enjoyed it so much.”

“Seeing the world on Uncle Sam’s dime wasn’t a bad gig, but more than anything, I liked the sense of unity and purpose it gave me. Nothing forces you to get your life in order faster than having to put it on the line to defend the lives of others,” Graham added wryly.

“Regardless of the reasoning, your Aunt Val and I are proud of you,” Nate countered firmly. “Now, it’s late and I’m not even going to ask what you’ve been up to. Get yourself some rest. Tomorrow’s a big day for you.”

Graham rolled his eyes. Clearly, everyone in his family shared the same sentiment regarding Annabelle. “Yo, Unc, chill. It’s not a big deal; she’s just a regular woman.”

A chuckle filled his ear, and in a superior tone, Nate retorted, “I was referring to your flight. I didn’t say anything about a woman. That was all you. But since you did, rumor has it that you’re smitten with Annabelle.”

“Awww, man! Not you too, Uncle Nate. Did you put in on that wager?” Graham didn’t know why he bothered to ask when he already had the sneaking suspicion of what the answer would be.

“Not me, but your Aunt Val did. I’ve got faith you’ll find the right woman. I’m not saying that’s Annabelle, but I always did like her. She was a nice, well-mannered girl, and you know any friend of Georgie’s was alright in my book. She, Kenya, Chelsea, and your sister were inseparable.”

Nate fell silent before adding, “All that changed when Annabelle became involved with Davis. She was always an outgoing girl but suddenly became withdrawn and tense. She hardly hung out with any of the girls, and that group was pretty tight. I hope that wherever she is, she’s happy and at peace.”

No matter who Graham talked to about Annabelle, the results were always the same. Her light had been diminished by the time she’d spent in Davis’s company. “Time will tell. I’ll keep you posted. I’d appreciate it if you did the same for me regarding your sister.”

“I know you and the girls don’t have the ambivalent feelings about Ingrid that I do and for good reason,” Nate acknowledged heavily. “But she’s still my sister. I’d like to see her get on her feet and stay on them.”

“Nothing would please me more than escorting her out of town upright instead of tossing her out on her ass.” His declaration was met with silence, but Graham refused to take it back. Rubbing his jaw in vexation, he raised his eyes to the ceiling, and struggled to say something kind. “Unc, I get where you’re coming from because I have sisters too and would move heaven and earth for them. At the same time, I won’t allow them to be hurt any longer by your sister. Just please keep in mind that all blood ain’t family,” Graham softly reminded him. “Aiight?”

To which Nate replied, “I love you, son. Be careful and call us if you need anything.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Three

 

Sunshine Coast, Queensland, Australia

 

“I have great news for you, Mrs. Lenza! Princess Grace isn’t dying. She’s just going to be a momma! All that laying around was her nesting in preparation for her babies,” Annabelle beamed as she patted the white Maltese’s back affectionately. Her tail, covered in multi-colored ribbons, wagged lethargically in response as she snuggled closer to Annabelle. “Congratulations!”

“Puppies?!” Mrs. Lenza exclaimed clutching at the strands of grey Tahitian pearls around her neck. Her shocked blue eyes were magnified by the enormous black bifocals she wore. “But how? She hasn’t been properly introduced to any dogs, and the only place we go to socialize is the dog park! All the pets there have been very civilized…”

Her voice trailed off at Annabelle’s raised eyebrows and knowing look. “Ma’am, there’s no such thing as a ‘civilized’ animal. That’s an oxymoron.”

“Well, who is the father then? I’m demanding a DNA test!” The elderly woman huffed indignantly as she turned and addressed her dog. “How could you be sweet-talked into something so irresponsible? What will the neighbors think? When we get home, you and I are going to have a serious talk about your loose behavior.”

This was starting to sound like a “Jerry Springer” show, Annabelle thought. “We can figure something out, but for now, let’s focus on what’s important. All the blood tests for intestinal and blood parasites like hookworms and heartworms came back negative, which is great. I’m especially pleased to see that Princess Grace is not a carrier of any serious bacteria causing diseases like brucellosis, which could result in liver damage and arthritis in humans.” Annabelle carefully picked up the dog and rubbed her face gently. “All of her vitals are normal and her vaccinations are up-to-date. Judging from the x-rays we took, I counted four spines and skulls. Sometimes they’re hidden but for now you can expect at least four puppies. If there are no other questions, you’re good to go! Our receptionist will schedule Princess Grace’s next appointment.”

Mrs. Lenza smiled gratefully at Annabelle as she accepted the sleepy-looking Maltese. “Always a pleasure to see you, young lady. Thank you for taking such good care of my baby!”

Annabelle smiled as the older lady left the exam room. She washed her hands at the sink before walking to her office at the end of the hall, where she hung up her white lab coat and gathered her large green and white polka dot beach bag.

“Dotty, I’m going to lunch now. I’m headed to my usual spot if you need anything,” Annabelle informed Dotty at the front desk as she promptly turned off Good Charlotte’s Pandora channel to listen to her. “If the lab results come back early on Ms. Cleo, please give me a call. I’d like to get her back in as soon as possible. Oh, and if Dr. Bass calls for the hundredth time, please let her know that I didn’t burn the place down; we’re doing great, and yes, the hospital is still functioning in her absence.”

“Sure thing, boss. Don’t you just love our leader’s dedication to this place?” Dotty’s Australian accent was accentuated by her sarcasm, which did not go undetected by Annabelle, who gave her a reproachful look. The pink-haired receptionist defensively smoothed her short mohawk with her long, pointed iridescent fingernails. “Whaaat?! C’mon, boss, admit it! She can hardly be bothered to show up. You know that you’re the only boss we acknowledge! Without you here, this place would fall apart!”

Linda Bass was an acclaimed veterinarian whose lectures Annabelle attended when the vet visited University of California-Davis School of Veterinary Medicine. When Annabelle settled in Furla, she was excited to discover Dr. Bass had opened an animal clinic here. Annabelle applied for a position and was hired, but she never expected to be practically running the clinic. Dr. Bass was a new divorcee and making up for lost time. She had a new, wealthy boyfriend, and they were busy traveling the world, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by her staff. 

“Dotty, I’d appreciate it if you kept your opinions to yourself. We’re not going to be the type of facility that perpetuates malicious gossip. Am I clear?” Annabelle maintained her stern expression with the receptionist who nodded her head in sullen agreement.

“Squaaawk! Dr. Bass is a dick-crazed slacker! Squaaawk!” The shrill announcement had Annabelle’s eyes bugging out of their sockets as Dotty, unsuccessfully tried to shush Toussaint, the African gray parrot that belonged to Dr. Bass, but he wouldn’t comply. “Dr. Bass is a crazy waffle-twat! Squaaawk!”

Toussaint was the hospital’s official mascot that greeted their patients’ hello and bid them goodbye from his perch on the large Schefflera stump tree in the reception area.

“You little snitch!” Dotty shouted at him. She stole a glance at Annabelle and had the grace to be embarrassed. “Er-progress in baby steps, heh-heh…favorite boss in the entire world?”

“I can’t with you,” Annabelle enlightened her as the parrot flew back to its perch. “Get Toussaint straightened out and let’s not have this conversation again, Dotty.”

“Aye, Aye, Captain!” Dotty complied with an impish grin.

Dick-crazed slacker. Annabelle was barely able to maintain a straight face as she walked out of the front entrance. Waffle-twat…lawwwd! With a laugh, she lifted her face to receive the rays of warm sunshine Australia was famous for. Even after three years in the land down under, the feeling of sunshine and hot weather in December was still surreal to her. Back in her hometown of Baymoor, Maryland, she’d be covered in layers of clothing to prevent her ass from freezing off. Lately, Annabelle found herself missing that as well as some seasonal things like ice skating at Cinnamon Farms frozen swimming pond or going on hayrides and picking pumpkins at harvest time.

Annabelle looked both ways for safety before crossing the street. She sat down on an empty bench, removed her cork sandals, and stuffed them into her beach bag before standing up and stepping onto the warm, fine white sand of the beach.

The concept of Linda getting hers didn’t bother Annabelle if that’s what made the other woman happy. Life was too short to be tied to miserable, insecure assholes who treated you like crap. Besides, Annabelle liked having the animal clinic to herself. At one time, she’d hoped to open a clinic of her own. Growing up, she’d always loved animals and was fascinated by them and passionate about caring for them. Her obsessions were the reasons she’d specifically sought jobs at the Baymoor Animal Hospital and Cinnamon Farms.

There wasn’t a job too gross or dirty that Annabelle wasn’t willing to do if it meant she could spend time with animals. While other girls were concentrating on boys, makeup, and music, Annabelle was assisting in delivering piglets, bailing hay into stalls, and making splinters for birds’ wings. If a calf or foal was breach, Annabelle was right there with Farmer Walter and the vets burning the midnight oil, waiting and praying that both mama and baby would pull through. She was front and center during breeding season because you really hadn’t lived until you saw a bull or stallion mount their partner and get busy. Definitely an eye-opening adventure that wasn’t for everybody. You were either amazed or your eyeballs were scarred for life by the experience.

Here in Furla, Annabelle’s animal experiences were a little more exotic than what she was used to. The citizens tended to be a little more adventurous in their choice of companions with clinic’s clients running the gamut from domesticated animals such as cats, dogs, and hamsters to wild animals like feral cats, tortoises, parrots, a tarantula, albino python, and Annabelle’s personal favorite, a cantankerous six-foot long green iguana.

“G’ day, lass! Heading to your usual spot? Didn’t realize it was lunch time already.” The thick accented voice belonged to Mickey, the craggy-faced owner of Smoothie Shack, a small tiki hut located on the beach that Annabelle frequented several times a week. “The usual?”

“You know it, Mickey. How’s business going today?” Annabelle patiently waited as he made her strawberry-mango-peach smoothie. She held out her money which he waved away as usual.

“It’s been ace!” Mickey grinned with satisfaction. “Put your money away! After everything you’ve done for my feisty sheilas’, I’m bloody indebted to you and won’t ever take your money.”

Mickey was referring to the three Euro-Blue cats he owned. They detested everyone, except Mickey and normally had to be sedated in order to be examined. When the other vets and x-ray technicians saw them coming, they turned tail and hid from the ornery felines. To everyone’s surprise and relief, the cats had taken a liking to Annabelle, therefore making them her patients by default. 

“Thanks, Mickey,” she said gratefully as she accepted the large Styrofoam cup from him.

“You’re welcome, love. Hope you like it; it’s got heaps of strawberries and mangos. Give it a burl and lemme know what you think. I’ll make you a new one if it’s iffy.”

As with most places Annabelle went in Furla, the locals’ laidback speech was liberally laced with Aussie slang. Some of which she’d picked up on as well. Annabelle sipped the beverage then gave him an approving thumbs-up. “Good ‘onya, my friend! Definitely hits the spot. Thanks again, and please tell Hazel, Minnie, and Tansy that I said hello.”

Annabelle continued her walk across the beach until she reached her usual spot. She pulled her portable lounger out of her beach bag and set it up before shedding her top and skirt to reveal the pink swimsuit underneath. Next, Annabelle secured her long microbraids into a bun and applied sunscreen before settling into the lounger with the latest issue of Veterinary Practice News. She tried to focus on what she was reading but was slightly distracted by the frothy, rippling turquoise waves that rolled in. Silently, they called to her before teasingly retreating then repeating over again in a tempting pattern.

Life in Furla was as Mickey would say ‘aces’. Annabelle had access to the beach at her fingertips whenever she wanted, her career was solid, money wasn’t an issue, and she was well-liked and respected. There were other aspects of her life that brought her immense joy, and yet lately Annabelle felt...restless and discontent. Anyone else might have been envious of her life because it looked like she had it all, but Annabelle knew better. She hadn’t gotten it honest. That fact was never far from her mind, hovering around at the edges, and taunting her whenever she started to think the past could be just that.

Pity-party of one? Your table is ready.

It happened whenever Annabelle thought of the friends and some family she’d left behind in Baymoor. Her beloved Aunt Chandra and her day ones - cousin Inez, best friend Kenya “Kenny” Griggs, and the angel that saved her life, Chelsea Reyes. She also missed her good friend Georgie who’d dipped as promised right after graduating high school. Annabelle wished they could have stayed in touch, but she now understood her friend’s necessity in cutting ties.

There had been no contact since she left Maryland. Annabelle hated the harsh words that she and Kenny had exchanged in their last conversation. Or that she hadn’t gotten to say good bye to Auntie Cee and Inez. Sometimes, she found herself picking up the phone and entering familiar phone numbers, only to delete before pressing send. She’d known them her entire life, and the cut-off had left her emotionally debilitated. They’d missed out on sharing and celebrating life-changing moments together, and Annabelle hoped like hell her girls were still slaying whatever goals they’d set for themselves.

She wondered if Kenya and Rodney had any children yet. Her bestie was crazy about her husband, and Annabelle remembered how hard it was for them to keep their hands off each other. They were so in love, it seemed as though everyone around them disappeared. At times, Annabelle had been envious of them. She’d also been in a relationship, but unlike theirs, hers had only been a brutal illusion that left her soured on relationships.

It wasn’t that she hated men. Her harsh experience hadn’t made Annabelle swear off men altogether. Just relationships. She liked the solitude of being a loner. You didn’t have to bend over backward, catering to demands. You could come and go as you pleased without answering to a dictator. There were no egos to inflate or orgasms to fake. No one to critique every fucking thing about her. Annabelle had discovered a long time ago that there wasn’t a damn thing a man could do for her that she couldn’t do for herself but better. Especially the self-induced multiple orgasms.

A movement from the corner of her left eye caught Annabelle’s attention, and she turned her head slightly before freezing on the spot.

Oh, my damn, was her last coherent thought.

***

The matronly flight attendant whose name badge read Uma smiled politely at the tall, handsome black man who was the only passenger on board the private plane. In a thick German accent, she declared, “Thank you for flying with us, sir. Please enjoy your stay.”

The younger, more attractive flight attendant with the café au lait complexion, hovering behind her, Shayla, according to her name badge, also spoke in a lilting Australian accent, chiming in with a flirtatious smile, “Yes, sir; welcome to Furla.”

Graham smiled at both of them, his teeth a brilliant flash of white, contrasting strikingly against his black goatee and smooth toffee complexion. The older woman flushed crimson in response to his smooth deep baritone as he drawled, “I plan to; thank you, ladies.”

She hastened away while the younger one lingered, arms crossed and tapping her fingers impatiently as she waited for her co-worker to disappear from view. Satisfied that the coast was clear, Shayla fell into Graham’s lap with a squeal of happiness. Hungrily, she plastered her lips to his with an intense familiarity, not even noticing that the kiss wasn’t being reciprocated. “Damn, I missed you, lover! You have no idea how happy I was to see your name on the travel roster this morning.”

With a pout of her smeared burgundy glossed, bow-shaped lips, she drew back to run her hand over his bald head. Lovingly, Shayla examined his face, her gaze focusing on his mouth. God, she remembered to the last lick what he could do with that wicked mouth!

“Why didn’t you meet me in the dunny? It’s been so long that I feel like my “mile-high” membership was about to expire, Graham!” Shayla whined, her accent thickening with her displeasure as she fingered the trail of opal buttons down the front of his white linen button down shirt. Suggestively licking her lips, Shayla studied him from underneath a web of heavily mascaraed black lashes. “Have you missed me as much as I’ve missed you?”  

Graham was always on the go, traveling in and out of the country on a moment’s notice for both leisure and work. He preferred the privacy of flying solo and always arranged a private jet for his expeditions. Graham met Shayla two years ago on his last flight to Sydney, and they’d hit it off immediately. First in the plane’s spacious bathroom or “dunny” as the Aussies called it, with her bent over the sink, then several times later that night in her hotel room. A good time was had by all, and when Graham left her bed in the wee hours of the morning, Shayla was in the same luxurious state of contentment that all of Graham’s lovers wore upon his departure from their beds.

His sisters lived for giving him shit and roasting him sufficiently for his playboy lifestyle, but Graham wouldn’t have it any other way. He loved and respected all women, but especially black women. Their pretty shades, intelligence, humor, style, allure, and charm put them in a class all by themselves. Surrounded by the black girl magic that was made up of his Aunt Val, niece Camille, and sisters, all of whom never ceased to amaze him grace. This close-knit group of women were the only ones allowed in his heart, and a fact that didn’t sit well with the opposite sex.

Every woman he met thought they would be the one to lead him to the altar, despite Graham’s up-front explanation that he wasn’t set up for any ‘death do us part’ bullshit. Nah, he’d leave that to his sisters’ doting significant others. But the women were adamant in their conviction that they could change his mind with a little scheming and a lot of pussy. Disclosure issued, Graham had no problem sampling what was eagerly offered as long as they weren’t crazy. No pussy in the world was bomb enough to overlook crazy.

Graham had a thing about single mothers or rather their children, because of ‘Typhoon Ingrid’. He could fuck a woman with kids but ultimately found himself in the precarious position of monitoring the situation for the kid’s feelings and wondering if they were taken care of, well-adjusted, and who was watching them while he was playing Twister with their mamas. Those hook-ups tended to fizzle out faster than the others. Yeah, having Ingrid as a mother had definitely soured his outlook on relationships.

“Will you be in Furla long? I’m off for the next couple of days and this is my home base. I could keep you company and be your tour guide!” Shayla wheedled with a cheeky grin as her hand drifted toward the waistband of his white linen pants. “I’d love to remind you just how welcoming we Aussies can be, Yank.”

Graham grinned as he caught her wandering hand. Gently, he eased her from his lap before she realized that her lusty greeting had been met with zero reaction from his body. He unbuckled his seatbelt, rose from his seat, and grabbed his cognac-colored leather messenger bag that he always carried with him from the seat next to them. “Thanks for the offer but no thank you.”

“Why not?!” Shayla snapped irritably. “You know we’d have a great time together!”

“Give it a rest, Shayla,” Graham said firmly as he removed his roll-on luggage from the overhead. “That was a one-time thing. We both knew what the deal was, otherwise, I wouldn’t have proceeded with hooking up.” He leaned down and brushed a kiss on her cheek. “No hard feelings. Take care.”

He left without looking back as he exited the plane and moved purposefully toward the waiting town car he’d arranged for his destination. As Graham settled into the vehicle, he wasn’t surprised to find it already occupied by two men wearing matching openly hostile expressions as they glared at him.

The larger of the two’s face was florid and sweating profusely on his forehead, which he dabbed at with a stained handkerchief. His rotund frame was squeezed into a tight suit that looked like it was two deep breaths away from exploding. The leaner man was slender and elegant, and much more composed as he regarded Graham with acute dislike.

“Gentlemen.” Graham’s expression was pleasant, and he appeared relaxed as he buckled himself in. “To what do I owe the honor?”

With another swipe to his flushed face, Hiram Vechers, Director of the ASIO - Australia Intelligence Organization, gave a grunt as he sat forward. In his gruff voice he spoke, “Don’t play dumb with us, Carlton! You didn’t honestly think you could sneak into our country without us knowing about it, did you?”

“As usual you’re getting off track, and so early in the game too, Hiram,” Julian Warrick, Director of the ASN, comparable to the U.S.’s NSA, said reproachfully to his companion. His Australian accent was more cultivated than Vechers’ and sounded almost British. “A better question for Mr. Carlton would be who exactly is he looking at?”

Vechers blustered at the subtle lecture. “Julian, maybe that’s all your organization is interested in, but we are looking at the bigger picture! You run your show, and I’ll push my own damn agenda, mate!”

“I knew working together was a mistake! This is exactly why we aren’t able to work amicably toward trying to accomplish a common goal! At least the ASN is—”

“Ladies! Ladies!” Graham interrupted their loud argument. “You’re both pretty! Now, again, what do you want? I’m on vacation, and your inconsiderate asses are cutting into my valued time. Speak on it or get the fuck out.”

“You can be on your way as soon as you tell us what you’re really doing here,” Warrick reiterated. “Neither one of us is buying your cockamamie vacation excuse! So piss off with it!” His expression turned malicious. “Or we can just take your passport and hold you?”

“Do it and I’ll be forced to delete all of the files your bureaus have collected, dating back thirty years,” Graham promised ruthlessly and watched both men pale with dread. “For shits and giggles, I’ll even send alerts to anyone who was ever a speck on your radar,”

“You’re bluffing!” Warrick sneered while Vechers wheezed uncontrollably and struggled to regain his composure.

“Am I? I’d love for you to test me and find out.” Graham reached into his bag and tossed his passport at Warrick with a mirthless chuckle. “You didn’t really think that I’d return without a little insurance, did you? I’ve set my alarm systems up so that if I don’t check in accordingly, your worst intelligence nightmares will become a hellish reality. You won’t be able to stop the viruses that will systematically destroy any anti-virus hardware you attempt to restore. Neither one of you will be able to hold your heads up in public.”

He treated them each to a superior smirk that made them grind their molars painfully. “That’s if you still have them once your prime minister discovers all of the bullshit that could have been prevented. All this because you’re both still pissed about being ‘Junipered’.”

Both men bristled at the phrase that was infamously coined in the intelligence world, thanks to them. Melvin Juniper was a loyal employee of the ASN who turned rogue whistleblower out of the blue two years ago. When Graham was employed by the NSA, he’d noticed a pattern of files that were opened from an unknown source. He followed the pattern and discovered Juniper hacking into the Australian organization’s confidential files and ASO’s as well.

With permission from his superior, Graham confided his discoveries to the arrogant duo confronting him and was promptly told to shove his findings up his ass. Warrick and Vechers had been obscenely condescending in assuring Graham that Melvin was a mere pencil-pushing flunky and in no way a threat to their national security.

Juniper fled Australia and sold some invaluable information to a few well-known terrorist organizations while in hiding. Warrick and Vechers had been forced to swallow their pride and egos to beg Graham for his assistance in locating the traitor, but he’d refused to assist in the search. They didn’t need to know that he’d retrieved all information from Juniper and disabled his systems. Let the assholes sweat it out.

Warrick and Vechers exchanged a commiserating glance, both knowing that Carlton had them backed into a corner with their bollocks in his pockets. Reluctantly, Warrick held out the passport and spoke in a grudging tone. “Alright, Carlton, perhaps we were a bit hasty in our approach—”

“I’d hardly call an ambush an approach, Warrick,” Graham brusquely interrupted as he snatched the passport out of his hand. “Quit trying to jam me up and listen closely as I won’t repeat myself again. I am not here in a working capacity. If I even see any agents in the vicinity, I might decide not to respond to my email reminders. Now, get out.”

Fuming, Warrick flung the passenger door open and exited the vehicle without another word or glance at him. Vechers stared after him for a moment before addressing Graham in a confidential whisper. “Just so we’re clear, Carlton; this was all Warrick’s ide–”

“Why am I still seeing you?”

“Right. Enjoy your visit then.” Vechers scrambled to the door and squeezed his large frame out of the car before slamming the door behind him.

Graham leaned back against his seat and pressed the intercom.

“Ready, sir?” his driver politely inquired. After rattling off the address, Graham leaned back in his seat and willed himself to relax. After months of searching, he was finally closing in on his quarry.

Annabelle was solely responsible for his lack of interest in any other woman who wasn’t related to Graham since he first saw her picture. It was a maddening reaction for the man who considered himself to be a connoisseur of women but one that Graham was gradually resigning himself to since discovering . He couldn’t wait to peer into her large, dark, wide-set eyes and see if they were as expressive as they appeared in pictures. If Annabelle’s gorgeous sable complexion was actually that silky smooth and flawless. Graham’s fingers itched to trace her body that was blessed with curves so generous, they made hills look as flat as plateaus.

He stared out the window, processing the scenery that whizzed by. The cloudless azure sky and sun shining bright enough to blind with seagulls soaring high. Back in Baymoor, it was barely forty degrees and snowing back while here on the other side of the world, it was summer and people were dressed accordingly as they biked and skated on the sidewalks. Graham could see the beach was packed, and speedboats and yachts were leaving the harbor and venturing into the ocean.

The car entered a suburb called the Shire of Furla and headed toward Furla Heads, the popular tourist attraction and heart of the entertainment district located on Hastings, which was the area’s main street. The driver stopped in front of a popular hotel, and Graham got out with his bags. After checking in, he joined the crowd headed to the beach and his destination. But he never made it to Cameroo Animal Clinic. As Graham surveyed his surroundings, he found exactly whom he was looking for chilling on the beach.

About two hundred feet from him, sitting on a lounge chair on the pristine white sand, was Annabelle. Her back was to him, but instinctively, he knew it was her. She was rotating between casually flipping through a magazine and watching the surfers maneuvering the rolling waves. For a moment, Graham paused just to enjoy the incredible view she presented that had his mouth salivating and his dick hardening and throbbing uncontrollably. With her gorgeous dark skin in that magenta one-piece bathing suit, Annabelle was magnificent. Her long, dark braids were piled in a haphazard bun thingy atop her head, allowing him a view of her elegant neck and gently rounded shoulders. From where he stood, Graham was afforded the outline of a full curvy hip, plump ass cheek, and a thick, shapely thigh. Have mercy.

He was pretty fucked and not in a good way, Graham thought to himself with a grimace as he shifted his stance to give his boy some breathing room. They weren’t even face-to-face yet, and she was already wreaking havoc on him. It was time to test the waters.

***

Hand pressed against the cool, wet tile, eyes closed, and head down, Graham pleasured himself with long smooth strokes to the memory of the way the sweetheart shaped neckline of Annabelle’s swimsuit clung to her lush breasts. He imagined himself settling between her thick, inviting thighs and peeling the clingy fabric back to reveal the hidden delights beneath. Graham knew her breasts would be perfect just like the rest of her, and his movements increased as he imagined burying his face in her generous bosom while sinking into her pussy. He ejaculated with a roar as the cold water rained down on him from the showerhead. But it was an empty outlet, nothing like the real thing he was fantasizing about.

With frustration, he watched the thick spurts of his release swirl with the water and go down the shower drain. Graham pounded his fist against the tile wall before grabbing the washcloth and soap to finish his shower. He could still feel the heated perusal Annabelle had treated him to as he walked by her. From his peripherals, Graham was able to see her pause in her page-flipping and her ripe mouth purse as she peered at him over the top of her sunglasses. That she wasn’t immune to him and approved of what she saw filled Graham with a relief that he found disturbing.

He thought the days of giving a damn about what anyone thought of him were long gone. That Ingrid screaming about him being worthless and then the group home owner who assured him he’d never amount to anything were a thing of the past. The drill sergeants in the Marines hadn’t bothered him so much. By the time Graham got to them, his shield was hardened and his ‘fuck you’ mentality was firmly in place. It galled him to suddenly find himself caring about someone’s opinion of him. Especially a female’s, which he’d never had a problem attracting. But Graham had known from the moment Kenya Griggs shoved Annabelle’s picture into his hands that she wasn’t just ‘anyone’, she was the only one who would do. In his bed.